on two wheels (maxley fic)

CHAPTER 09

October 08, 2002.

"The first time in six months, I don't hate you as much."

-Too Well

Renée Rapp

His hair is wet.

His hair is damp, dark blonde strands plastered to his forehead like effortless sweet bangs. I have no clue what Bradley Uppercrust III is droning on about, I can barely track his mouth moving. All I can focus on is his hair, wet enough to drip a few drops down his face. It's not the look I expected from him. Not what I expected to be distracted by him at all.

After he miraculously accepted me in, Tank lead me to a downstairs room with an empty bed. Actually, there were two non-occupied beds, but whoever claimed the other one chickened out on being a Gamma last minute, it seems. No one else has snagged the room yet, which is weird because a room to yourself is pretty sweet. Lucky me.

I grabbed the bed closer to the window, but sleep was nowhere in sight. My back still feels sore, and my eyelids are heavy, but lying there shut down any chance of sleep. I kept replaying what I did. Begged Bradley to take me in. Gosh, I'm such a dweeb.

"Welcome, Max!" the room suddenly shouts, snapping me out of my Bradley hair-staring session. All the fraternity guys - like, fourteen? Maybe eighteen, I can't really count right now - are congratulating me for joining, even though a few faces in the living room aren't exactly thrilled. I suppose those three are the ones aware of the bet I just dodged losing.

I'm leaning against a pillar that separates the corridor and stairs from the living room, feeling like a wallflower. I've been here before for a party, but it was dark and crowded - now I can actually see the place. It's pretty Greek-looking inside, not just the name (Gamma Mu Mu, seriously?).

Bradley's right in front of me, by the fireplace and the TV above it. Between us are the Gammas, sprawled on couches. Well, not all of them are sitting - one short dude is standing, but it doesn't make much difference. He's also one of the three who's giving me the stink-eye.

I don't know if Bradley noticed me staring at him earlier. Probably not, he was giving a speech, so it's natural to look at him. But that doesn't matter now. Time to respond to the Gammas' greetings.

"Thanks, guys," I say, pulling one hand out of my pocket in a peace offering kind of way.

I don't belong here. It's so obvious that they know it. I can practically feel them judging me, even the dorks who probably wouldn't know an Ollie from a kickflip (seriously, this frat is huge, some dudes most likely aren't even concerned with the X-Games). Doesn't matter that Bradley, their prez, just announced I'm in. Doesn't matter that I got a room and these guys are supposed to be my party crew now. They know, just like I do, that I don't fit in.

Their clothes are all fancy-pants, some dudes look like they walked out of a GQ ad, others like they spend all their time in the library. Here's the thing, man: besides the three X-Games dudes and the reserve crew, this place doesn't exactly scream "tough guys who'll punch you for hating the Eagles." Most of these dudes look much too old (weird) and far too nerdy. And only three of them even wear glasses! That means the nerd vibes are radiating straight from their souls. Straight-A students, the lot of them, I can just tell.

It's the opposite of my style, that's how I know. They are like two steps above my friend, P.J.'s style.

But Bradley.... Even with the wet hair look he chose for today-a complete different style choice of his and, honestly, very flattering-, he's like two steps above the whole Gamma Fraternity in his pompousness.